Moulin Rogue!
by Penelope Lane
Summary: Or, "The Gang Puts on a Show to Distract Krennic." So, basically a mashup of Rogue One and Moulin Rouge. Spurred by the idea because of my inability to correctly type ROGUE during my internet misadventures. Wine was also a factor in this story's conception. Cassian/Jyn but some serious Jynnic vibes.


Moulin Rogue or, "The Gang Puts on a Show to Distract Krennic"

Don't ask me where this is going—I don't know. I've had too much wine. This will stand alone until I finish my other fic, A Loathsome Lodestar. But all the angst was getting to me—I needed some humor to lighten things up. This makes no sense. Canon non-compliant—JUST SO EVERYONE KNOWS. Just go with it. Like I said—wine.

CAST:

Satine: Jyn Erso

Christian: Cassian Andor

Zidler: Saw Gerrera

The Duke: Orson Krennic (The Director)

Toulouse Lautrec: Bodhi Rook

The Unconscious Argentinean: K-2SO

The Doctor: Chirrut Imwe

Satie: Baze Malbus

 _Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side_

 _Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide_

 _But I'll love you_

 _Until the end of time_

 _Come What May_

Jyn gazed at her reflection in her dressing room mirror. She cursed Saw's name as she plastered greasepaint makeup onto her face. This rebel cell fronting as a cabaret space was getting old. Luckily, he'd told her that The Director was attending the performance tonight, and he was willing to invest in the Moulin Rogue and make it a true theater.

This was, of course, Saw's way of getting close to the Death Star, which was conveniently tethered across the street in a Montmartre parking lot. She gazed out of the window of the large Tauntaun structure that housed her quarters and twisted her red lips in thought. The night would be a long one.

"I've just moved here," Cassian explained to the Bohemian rebels who were his new upstairs neighbors, "I tell people that I'm a writer but I'm actually an agent for the rebellion."

"Perfect!" Bodhi exclaimed, "You'll fit right in with us."

"Why is that?"

"Because that's exactly what we tell people, too."

"In fact," Chirrut cut into the conversation, "We are going to the Moulin Rogue tonight. If we can get close to the star performer, we may have a chance at getting our play produced."

Baze rubbed his face tiredly and laid a hand on Chirrut's arm, "Remember, the play is the cover—we _are_ actual rebels, remember?"

"Oh, totally. Right." Chirrut huffed offhandedly, "The play is secondary. Totally."

"I'd love to join you," Cassian said, "I'm new in town so—"

"And you'll be the perfect choice," Bodhi said, "to present our ideas to Mademoiselle Jyn!"

So that evening, as planned, the Bohemian Rebels paraded across the street from their humble garret to the Moulin Rogue. They would present their piece, and, through the magic of music and art, they would fight for their cause. No one really had fleshed out a plan as to _how_ that would happen, but they were all pleased that there was now an excuse to put on a musical.

The group sat in a curved banquette booth—one of the best seats in the house. Out of the corner of his eye, Bodhi spied a well-dressed middle-aged silver fox clad in a pristine but superfluous white cape. Bodhi knew that if he could get The Director to invest in their play, he would be distracted enough that the Rebels could steal the data files with the Death Star plans!

Oh, the ol' put-on-a-show-as-a-diversion gag!

It was their only hope.

The Twi-lek dancers shook their ruffled skirts as the music swelled. The patrons were soon out of their seats, dancing with the girls. Cassian glanced around the place, in awe of what he was witnessing before him. It was a true hearth of bohemian rebellion.

After the dance had ended, Saw appeared in the balcony by the musicians. He announced the next act:

"And now!" He took a breath from his oxygen mask attached to his red cutaway coat, "The Sparkling Kyber!"

Cassian gazed up to the ceiling as a single spotlight illuminated a beautiful woman on a swing. She descended to the crowd and sang a classic song reimagined for the context:

 _A kiss on the hand may be quite Coruscanti_

 _But kybers are a girl's best friend_

The Director's mouth curled in satisfaction: she was not only beautiful and scantily clad, but also a talented singer. True mezzo-sopranos were actually very hard to find. He laid back in the booth and watched the show.

Mademoiselle Jyn flew around the room, her fingers outstretched toward the crowd. She jumped off of the swing and was caught by several waiting arms. Shielded by the Twi-leks' skirts, she started her costume quick change. Saw met her with a message:

"Tonight, you'll seduce The Director," he explained as she threw on her next outfit, "Keep him distracted. We must find a way to infiltrate the Imperial holding and gain access to their plans."

"Got it."

"I think if he chooses to be an investor of the Moulin Rogue," Saw continued, "We can get into his good graces."

"So," Jyn pondered, "smoldering temptress?"

"Smolder with the fire of both Tatooine suns," Saw nodded vigorously.

"Which one is he?" She peeked out from the wall of dancing skirts.

"Over _there!_ "

Of course, Saw was not very specific in his gesture. Jyn squinted against the show lights to see whom he was indicating. A dark haired and very dashing young man caught her eye. Maybe Jyn was wrong. Maybe this night wouldn't be too bad after all.

She sprang up in full costume from the Twi'leks and they gyrated away. As the song climaxed, Jyn danced her way over to the banquette of bohemians and slid straight into Cassian's lap.

"Oh, my dear," she whispered in his ear. Though she was confused; Imperials were never this scruffy. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Pleasure to make yours!" Cassian responded incredulously, "I am—"

"—Shhh," she said as she coaxed him out of his seat, "I know who you are."

Jyn ran her hands through his hair and he shivered. She smiled: "Let's dance."


End file.
